When the Road Darkens
by GothChickSupremo
Summary: Before vanishing, Elliot Stabler and Olivia Benson have a one night stand. Three months and a shattered heart later, the female detective is finding it difficult to cope with the absence of her other half. Does time really heal all wounds, or does it just make them deeper?
1. I

_"Faithless is he who walks away_

 _when the road darkens."_

 **J.R.R Tolkien**

Olivia Benson has never done well with change. There's just something about completely altering ones life that never really boded well with her. Whenever a long time ADA left them, it hurt her. Whenever a relationship that seemed like it was actually going somewhere ended, it hurt her. When her mother died, it caused her so much more pain than she let on at the time. When Calvin was taken from her, it felt almost as if her world was being ripped from her grasp. But this... This is different. This is a whole new level of agony, one that seems to have replaced the blood in her veins and the air within her lungs. She can feel his absence, so much so that the pain it brings could cripple her if she allowed it to linger for too long. This change, it's far too much for her to bare. Not only has her best friend- the man she was and still is desperately in love with- abandoned her, but now the captain is trying to replace _him_ with _her_. The blonde rookie, who seems greener than a football field, that somehow managed to get transferred all the way up to Manhattan from Atlanta. The seasoned detective rolls her eyes just thinking about it. She redirects her attention to the DD5 she was filling out before her thoughts had been taken elsewhere, trying her damnedest to focus on anything but her inner turmoil. She can scream and cry later, when she is home, _alone_. Olivia had actually made a significant amount of progress on her paperwork... That is, until she was interrupted by a thud. Something heavy was just dropped onto the desk across from her.

"It's fine Rollins, you can just leave it there for now till you get everything else sorted out." Fin says to the young detective kindly. The brunette's heart rate spikes upon analyzing the situation. He's allowing that kid to store her stuff on _his_ desk. _Elliot's_ desk. Her narrowed eyes flicker from the two conversing detectives over to the offending box, which looks so foreign piled on top of her partner's belongings.

No. Oh no. No no no no no. She's managed to hold everything in, to bottle up every bitter remark that's popped into her mind ever since that girl waltzed in here a little over a week ago, but she can't handle this. Encroaching on Elliot Stabler's space is where the line must be drawn. Slowly, Olivia rises from her chair, her fingers gripping the edge of her desktop so tightly that the tanned skin on her knuckles has gone completely white. Her heated gaze never lifts from the box as she rounds her desk, moving to the one directly across from it where it's poised. She wants to throw it, to send it cascading into the nearest wall and watch the contents fly about the bullpen. But doing that would only show how truly damaged she is; it would demonstrate that she's so fucked up, she would destroy an innocent detective's belongings. So she grasps the sides, her hold on the box so tight that her manicured nails leave crescent shaped imprints in the cardboard. The detective then pivots, meeting the bewildered stares of her friend and his new partner. She approaches them with as much calm as she can muster.

"You can't put this there." She admonishes, ignoring the girl and instead looking pointedly at Fin. The man stares back at her, his expression soft and his eyes shining with sympathy. _He_ _pities_ _her_.

"Come on Liv, don't do this... Not right now." He pleads quietly so as not to make a scene. Olivia casts a glare at the blonde planted next to him, noticing the flash of fear in the detective's blue eyes.

"You can put your stuff where ever the hell you like, but never touch that desk." She states through gritted teeth, thrusting the box into the rookie's arms. Rollins stumbles backwards from the force but manages to keep her balance, holding the box tightly against her whilst looking up to Fin for assistance. The male detective is really the only friend she's gained since arriving in Manhattan; he also seems to be the only one who isn't daunted by Olivia Benson. He pulls his gaze from his friend of over eleven years and looks over at Amanda, sighing upon seeing the plea for help in the young woman's eyes.

"Olivia," he asserts in a tone much colder than before, his eyes icy as he turns back to her, "Elliot has been gone for three months. He doesn't need that desk anymore." His voice is firm, showing none of his previous sympathy.

"She doesn't need it either. She has her own desk, over here." She snaps before turning away, as if to say that this conversation is over. Fin, who isn't known for backing down so easily, advances forwards.

"You can't keep a shrine set up here for that bastard! Just accept the fact that he's gone; that he's never coming back and move the fuck on Benson!" He shouts, loud enough to gain the attention of the entire squad room. Her entire body goes rigid, frozen in the center of the SVU bullpen. The room is quiet, eerily so.

"Move on?" Olivia's voice splits the silence, her body whipping around to face him once again. " _Move on?_ " Her voice has a disheartening level of betrayal within it, her eyes glittering with rebellious tears. How could he say that to her? How could he possibly expect her to simply move on from something like this? He'd been there for almost their entire partnership, he saw how close they were. He knows that she loves him.

"Guys, that's enough." John Munch breaks in, approaching the small group. He stands in between the two detectives, placing a hand on either of their shoulders in an effort to diffuse the situation. Olivia shrugs him off of her and brusquely walks back to her desk, snatching her phone and keys from one of the drawers. She exits the squad room and heads towards the elevators without another word.

"Was that really necessary, Fin?" John quires once the brunette is out of earshot.

"Someone had to say it, John. We can't let her have hope when there isn't any."

* * *

Immediately after locking the door to her apartment, Olivia Benson fled to the kitchen in search of alcohol. She spots a bottle of merlot first but quickly pushes past it, deciding that she would need something much stronger after the horrendous day she's had. She can't stop thinking about him and about how irreparably shattered she feels. She can't stop thinking about the last time they saw each other, here, in her home. When he showed up at her apartment, only week after the infamous shootout in their squad room. Constantly she's reminded of how he'd finally, after years of keeping her at arms length, confessed his love for her. Of how she'd revealed that she felt exactly the same for him. She can still feel the warmth of his lips when they pressed against her own and the pure, raw passion that had radiated between the both of them when their bodies connected. That night, for the first time in her life, Olivia Benson knew what it felt like to be truly loved by someone.

 _They both inhaled sharply when he first entered her, each of them remaining completely still as they tried to adjust to one another. Gently, he eased himself further inside of her, pressing his lips against hers to capture her moan._

"Stop it." She whispers to herself, grasping a bottle of vodka that had been shoved all the way to the back of her liquor cabinet. With a trembling hand, she pours the clear liquid into a tumbler, her breaths becoming uneven as her tears begin to fall. She grips the glass, staring down into the very void that sucked in her mother nearly eleven years ago. Her eyes slip shut at that thought but she doesn't allow herself to consider it any longer, instead lifting the rim to her lips and allowing the fiery liquid to burn it's way down her throat.

 _"Liv..." He groans against her hair, moving inside of her once more. She whimpers beneath him, her arms tightening around his neck at the intensity of the pleasure, "I love you so much, Olivia..."_

Quickly, she slams the glass down onto the counter, this time snatching up the bottle instead. The sudden onslaught of memories is becoming far to much for her to handle and she can no longer resist the urge to expel them from her mind. Olivia presses the opening of the vodka bottle against her mouth, tilting it upwards and pouring the liquor down her throat until she can't take it any longer. She sputters and begins coughing violently, the bottle slipping from her hands and shattering against the floor. The detective attempts to move away from the mess but instead she stumbles, finding herself laying on the ground along side the shards of glass only seconds later.

 _Olivia's eyes flew open and, almost immediately, she realized how cold she was. She remembered falling asleep in his arms the night before, but... Her head shifted to find the space next to her empty and she could already feel the despair building up inside of her. There was a piece of paper resting atop the pillow he laid on the night before. She grabbed it and her heart was instantly destroyed by the two words glaring up at her._

 _"I'm sorry."_

She brings her knees to her chest and tightly wraps her arms around them, figuring that she'll just stay on the kitchen floor for tonight. The weight of the world is crushing her, leaving her in such a weakened state. She doesn't want to go back to work. She doesn't want to deal with the memories brought on by the mere sight of his desk. She can't face Fin, not after their argument, not after feeling the full impact of the pain his words caused her. It isn't his fault though, she deserved everything he said to her after the way she acted.

 _"Move the fuck on Benson!"_

 _"I love you Olivia."_

The two voices echo within the confines of her mind, screaming at her from every angle. She can feel the soppy warmth of tears coursing down her cheeks accompanied by sporadic quakes coursing through her body, following each of her anguished sobs.

 _"I love you Olivia."_

He loved her. _He_ loved _her_.

But, he left her. _He_ left _her_.

* * *

 **Tell me what you think...**


	2. II

_"She did not want to move, or to speak._

 _She wanted to rest, to dream, to lean._

 _She felt very tired."_

 **Virginia Woolf**

It's late into the next morning when Captain Donald Cragen emerges from his office. Upon stepping into the squad room, he notices that one of his most dedicated detectives is absent and an overwhelming sense of dread envelops the man. Last night's incident spread through the precinct like wild fire, him having heard of it through a very concerned John Munch. The captain has been trying to construct a way to handle Olivia Benson ever since her partner left, but so callously telling her to get over it was certainly not what he would consider the best solution. He sighs, casting his gaze to Fin, who is now staring at his boss, a hybrid of guilt and worry shining in his light eyes. It isn't like Olivia Benson to not show up at work without so much as a phone call. They each move to grab their respective phones but freeze, their focus shifting to the figure that has just stepped through the bullpen doors.

At first, neither of them are sure if it's actually her or not for she has her head angled downwards, but as she advances towards her desk it becomes clear that this is, in fact, Olivia Benson. Her head shifts upwards and she freezes behind her desk chair, bloodshot eyes settling on her captain. The older man, having suffered alcoholism for an immensely large period of time, instantly notices that she's been drinking; a lot. He scans her in search of any other inconsistencies and sure enough, he spots two healing cuts on her right cheek and a bandage wrapped around her hand on the same side. Glass, he presumes, basing the assumption off of the numerous amounts of times he's thrown or dropped a drink himself.

"What?" Olivia asks her superior, her voice a hoarse whisper. It appears that she attempted to gather her long tresses in a clip, but she clearly failed miserably, for most of her hair hangs limply about her sunken face. Don tries to remember when her physical appearance changed- when the sparkle in her eyes disappeared, when her bronze toned complexion took on a grayish pallor. He wonders when the bags beneath her eyes darkened, to the point that the skin looks bruised. When did she stop sleeping? When did she stop eating? Of course, Donald Cragen knows the exact reason for the drastic change that has occurred in his best detective. Or at least, he thinks he does. He just hopes that today's revelation doesn't cause her anymore pain. But he knows it will.

"Can we, uh, talk in my office?" He asks, though it really isn't much of a question. The captain turns and walks back towards his office, glancing behind him to make sure that she's actually following suit. She's trailing him, albeit slowly, with her head hung and her arms folded tightly over her abdomen, as if she were trying to comfort herself. He waits for her at the office entrance, watching as she lowers herself into one of the two chairs places before his desk. Don shuts the door, making sure that the blinds on his windows are shut to ensure that this conversation remains private. He's sitting across from her then, his hands folded atop his desk and his eyes trained on her rigid form. The detective keeps her gaze focused on the floor, not daring to look into the eyes of her boss. She couldn't stand the sympathy that would be there, much less the disappointment.

"Olivia, I... I know that Elliot putting his papers in has been very hard on you, it's been hard on all of us but-"

"But it's time to move on?" She cuts him off, listlessly echoing the words Fin had thrown at her yesterday. The man stares at his detective, stunned into silence as he tries to think of a reasonable response. He wants to say yes, yes it is time to move on. He wants to tell her to stop acting like... This. He's getting tired of her attitude, and of her snapping at anyone and everyone constantly. No, he can't let her go on like this. It doesn't matter how much he cares for her because at the end of the day, he's the captain and she's the detective.

"Jesus Olivia, it's been three months. Three months! I get that you don't like it, but there's nothing that any of us can do about it so why don't you get rid of the fucking attitude and do your job, huh? You think you can do that?" Don snaps, hoping to rile her. He watches the woman closely, waiting for any sort of reaction that could signify remanence of the old Olivia Benson. Her eyes move upwards at that, but instead of the fire he's so used to seeing within them, he's met with tearful, unwavering pain.

"Okay." She submits easily, moving to stand up from her seat.

"Olivia, wait I... That's not all I wanted to talk to you about." He stumbles over his words, trying to regain his composure after seeing her so distressed.

"The Brass, they think... Well, they know that we're understaffed and... I don't know how to say this in a way that won't hurt you Olivia but, you're getting a new partner."

She stares at her captain, her face contorting into an expression of pure mortification. "No," she hisses, her voice much louder, "I don't want a new partner, Don. I'll be perfectly fine on my own." She pushes herself into a standing position and walks towards the door, not wanting to hear any further discussion.

"It doesn't matter what you want Benson." Her captain barks. His patience with her is beginning to wear thin. "Your new partner will be here, _today_. I swear to god if you mess this up Olivia-"

"What? You'll fire me?"

"..."

Olivia spins around, her eyes so wide that they're practically bulging from their sockets. She didn't think that she could possibly feel anymore pain than she already does, but her captain's radio silence is proving otherwise. Nearly everyone who has ever mattered to her has turned against her at this point and she's beginning to feel as though she has no one left in the world. Maybe, she thinks, they all would be better off if she just quit. But she couldn't possibly leave this job behind- it's the only thing she has left.

"I won't mess up Captain."

It's been nearly an hour since Olivia Benson left her captain's office, returning to her desk to focus on the pile of paper work that seems to have grown exponentially over the past three months. She has a raging headache due to the alcohol she consumed the night before, and she feels as though she's going to throw up the four cups of coffee she's had today. The detective blames her sudden sickness on how nervous she is about meeting her new partner. She knows absolutely nothing about this person and that terrifies her. What if it's another Rollins? Could she handle working with someone who knows absolutely nothing about the job? _This must be what Elliot felt like before I came along_ , she muses to herself.

"Hey man, you need help?" The sound of Fin's voice brings her back to the real world. Her head turns, her eyes settling on the latino man standing beside her coworker.

"Yea, could you direct me to Captain Cragen's office?" The man inquires, his calloused fingers scratching at his thick beard.

Olivia's jaw tenses when she realizes why the guy is looking for the captain's office. _That's_ her new partner? He looks like he's only a few years older than Amanda, and she's pretty sure that he just came straight out of some narcotics operation. He struts towards the captain's office, his eyes flashing with recognition when he sees her. The man gives her a nod, which she doesn't return, before heading off to speak with Cragen.

"He seems like a good kid." Fin states once the office door is closed. The female detective huffs in response, biting back a harsh come back and instead refocusing on her paperwork. Two minutes pass silently before the office door opens once again, revealing her captain who is gesturing for her to join the meeting. She complies, rising from her chair and following her boss into the small room. The man is sitting in one of the chairs across from the captain's desk and he turns, standing when he notices me.

"Detective Olivia Benson, this is Detective Nick Amaro. Your new partner."

* * *

She doesn't remember ever feeling this tired. Her body, though sickly lithe, feels as though it weighs ten tons. Her feet drag beneath her as she shuffles into her apartment and she presses a palm to her throbbing forehead. The residual pain from her hangover only seems to have intensified during the day, possibly from the never ending questions she received from Amaro. That man is already intolerable.

Olivia enters her kitchen, a sigh slipping past her lips when she spots the mess that she didn't have time to clean up this morning. Glass and specks of dried blood litter the floor that had been her bed last night, so she begins the task of cleaning it, though her current exhaustion is making it somewhat difficult. Once the shards have been disposed into the trash can and the floor has been scrubbed, she collapses against the refrigerator door, staring blankly at the white tile. She wants to drink, but she doesn't want a repeat of last night. Maybe she should just go to bed...

"Shit!" She gasps, both of her hands flying to her abdomen as agonizing pain suddenly tears through her body. Olivia doubles over, resting her forehead against her knees, breathing deeply in an effort to work through the abrupt pain. That's when she sees it- the fabric of her grey slacks, directly between her thighs, is stained crimson.

"Wh-what..." She chokes through another onslaught of pain, unable to fight the stinging sensation building up behind her eyes. Her knees lower until her legs are flat against the ground and she brings a trembling hand towards the growing patch of blood, brushing her the tips of her fingers against it. The detective's mind is racing, trying to come up with a reasonable, not terrifying reason as to why this is happening.

"I can't... I don't- I don't know... Oh god... Elliot!" She sobs his name, wishing so desperately that he were here to help her right now.

Olivia pushes herself onto her hands and knees, this simple action so torturous that she doesn't even bother to try and stand up. She crawls forwards, dragging her weakened body across the kitchen floor until she reaches the breakfast bar, where she'd tossed her phone and keys. After what very well may have been an eternity, she manages to climb onto her knees, one of her hands blindly searching for her cellphone whilst the other is pressed against her back, trying to ease the pain.

"911, how can I help you?" A woman's voice rings through the speaker once Olivia manages to key in those three numbers. She explains the situation through ragged breaths, telling the operator about her profuse bleeding in all of half a minute. She's asked multiple questions about her situation which Olivia answers agitatedly, only wanting someone to come and make all of her pain go away. Finally, the call ends and the phone drops to the floor next to her. The detective stares at the enlarged blood stain, her mind reeling at a single question the woman asked her; a question that she hadn't even bothered to contemplate.

 _"Are you pregnant?"_

 _"I don't know..."_

* * *

 **Yeah... I have a feeling there are a lot of people who want to kill me right now...**


	3. III

**I'm sorry for not updating in a gazillion years, I've been busy doing life stuff-I know, disgusting. Anyhow, this** _ **might**_ **be the last chapter of this story, I haven't really decided yet but... I'll just let you guys read and tell me what you think.**

* * *

 _"I grew, day by day, more moody,_

 _more irritable, more regardless_

 _of the feelings of others."_

 **Edgar Allan Poe**

Olivia Benson doesn't quite remember all that happened last night. Vaguely, she recalls her door being opened-probably by her nosy next door neighbor, Mrs. Hanson-and she has a distant memory of being surrounded by uniformed men. The only thing she knows for certain is that she's just woken up in the hospital, and something is _very_ wrong. She can feel it in the air around her, an overwhelming sense of emptiness and despair that threatens to suffocate her.

"Miss Benson?" A voice calls from the doorway. There stands a nurse, her graying hair pulled back into a tight bun and her soft blue eyes piercing the detective's soul with their kind stare. "Glad to see that you're up, you've been out of it for quite sometime. I was starting to worry," she states with a minute smile, entering the sterile room. The woman, who's name tag reads 'Jayne M.', halts at the end of her patient's bed, raising a pair of wired glasses to rest on the bridge of her nose as she begins to read over a clipboard.

"What... Uh, what happened?" Olivia inquires, her voice hoarse from lack of being used. Of course, she knows that she had been practically hemorrhaging on her kitchen floor but as to why, she's still unclear. She hopes to god that it wasn't because of what the 911 operator had suggested.

"Well..." the nurse murmurs, her eyes lifting from the clipboard to look back at the brunette dolefully, "You had a miscarriage, sweetheart."

The room falls into an abysmal silence, the only sound being the beeping of Olivia's heart monitor, though she's sure that her heart just stopped beating. She has no idea what to do with this information. Should she be happy? She obviously is in no condition to take care of a child, so maybe... No, no this isn't a good thing, not by a long shot. She killed her child, _their_ child.

"I-I didn't know... I didn't know I was pregnant! How could I not know?" She whispers, feeling as though she has to justify herself to the older woman. She needs her to know that this isn't her, that she wants a child more than anything in the world- that she wants _his_ child more than anything in the world; that if she had known, she would have done anything and everything in her power to keep it with her.

"It's perfectly normal for women to not know they're pregnant, Miss Benson. It's called a cryptic pregnancy and they're extremely common." Jayne says in a pointless effort to reassure her patient. Olivia shakes her head, unable to fight the burning sensation behind her eyes any longer as the tears cascade along her pallid cheeks.

"How far along?" The detective asks, though she already knows what the answer is. She just needs conformation that this child is-was-in fact the product of her one night affair with Elliot Stabler.

"Three months," she responds, hesitating for a moment before continuing, "the doctors removed the fetus while you were unconscious to prevent any further hemorrhaging. They concluded that he died from overexposure to alcohol."

"He?" Olivia breaths, her wide eyes staring at the older woman in horror. Somehow, regarding her unborn child as a person makes the pain even more unbearable. "I would've had a son." She finds herself sobbing into her hands, the new information on her baby and her self loathing becoming too much for her to handle. She doesn't want to be here anymore, she wants to go home, to be able to cry in her own bed; she doesn't want to be alone when she does it. She wants _him_ to hold her, to tell her that everything is going to be okay.

"When can I leave?" She asks abruptly, wiping at the the tears that still continue to fall. The nurse is stunned by the younger woman's sudden change in mood, blinking a few times before answering the question.

"You're free to leave whenever you like, though I recommend you stay for at least a few more hours. We found that you were extremely malnourished when we examined you, so we've been giving you nutrients through the IV." Jayne explains, gesturing to the clear bag hanging next to her bed.

"Thank you, but I just... I want to go home." The brunette says weakly, her fingers picking at the tape securing the needle in her vein. The nurse nods and smiles, albeit sadly, turning to leave the room and retrieve her release forms. However, she pauses at the door when a forgotten thought enters her mind.

"When we tried to call your emergency contact, Elliot Stabler I believe it was, the number was disconnected," she pauses, turning to find her patient has gone completely rigid at the mention of this man, "is there anyone else we could possibly call for you? You'll need someone to take you home..."

"No-yes, just... I'll call them." Olivia mutters, shifting to grab the phone resting on the table next to the hospital bed. The nurse simply nods, exiting the room while the detective punches in a series of numbers.

Fin and Cragen are out of the question, considering how tense things have been between the both of them ever since her partner left and there's no way in hell she's calling either of the two rookies, so she's left with her final and only option.

"Sergeant John Munch, Special Vic-"

"It's Olivia."

"Liv? Where the hell are you, the captain has been trying your cell all morning!"

"To make a long story short, I'm at Mercy and-"

"You're at a hospital? What happened? Are you okay?"

"I'm... Just come pick me up John, _please_."

"Okay okay, I'll be there as soon as possible."

"Thank you... John?"

"Yes Olivia?"

"Don't tell anyone about this?"

"Wouldn't dream of it. See you in a bit Liv."

* * *

After sitting on a bench located in front of the hospital for about fifteen minutes, she's glad to see the familiar burgundy Crowned Victoria approaching. It comes to a halt directly in front of me and the door swings open, revealing a very concerned John Munch. She offers him a meek smile as he steps towards her, lowering himself onto the bench without a word.

"I'm sorry about this, John." She says softly, her eyes never leaving her feet that are currently covered by a pair of white slippers that Jayne gave her, along with a set of blue scrubs.

"Don't worry about it Liv. The only thing I'm upset about is that you left me to answer all of your rookie's questions." He quips in an effort to lighten the mood. He's disheartened when his friend doesn't show any signs of emotion but instead mumbles another apology. Her arms are wrapped tightly around her abdomen, looking as if she were trying to protect it from something.

"What happened last night Olivia?" He asks after a moment of silence. She lowers her chin to her chest, her long hair falling to mask the tears leaking from her eyes. Despite her attempt at hiding, John can clearly tell that she's crying by the way her shoulders are shaking.

"I don't want to talk about it, John." She breaths through gritted teeth and waits for a beat before lifting her head. "I just want to go home." Olivia stands rather abruptly, roughly scrubbing at her tear stained face with the palms of her hands.

The older man merely sighs in response, rising from his spot on the bench; shuffling ahead and swinging the door open for his forlorn friend. Without a word she slips into the car, sinking into the worn leather seat of the age old cruiser. Once inside John chances a glance in her direction, knowing that he shouldn't question her further no matter how desperately he wants to. So he drives, pulling away from Mercy General Hospital and-unknowingly-away from Olivia Benson and Elliot Stabler's lost child.

* * *

 **I'm gonna go hide in a cave for a little while so that none of you murder me...**


End file.
